A Dancer for Christmas
by LaptopWriter22
Summary: Somewhere in the world, Christmas isn't perfect. Sometimes, it involves an out of reach wish and an unpleasant fall back to reality. One girl's dream goes unnoticed in a big city until her mother teams up with an old friend: Ferb Fletcher. However, there are skeletons in Ferb's closet that Isabella may not be able to afford to unearth. A PnF Christmas story.
1. Chapter 1

_A Dancer for Christmas_

* * *

"Mom! I can't find my slippers!" I paused in my frantic rushing, setting the briefcase I'd been lugging around on the table.

"Try the floor under your bed," I called back knowingly. Katee had never been much for neatness. She hadn't gotten that from me. Opening the briefcase, I checked that the medical forms were all there. Leaving just one of the infernal documents behind would mean crushing my nine-year-old's dreams.

"Katee Hutchinson, age nine, cleared for participation in high-energy activities for the next month," I muttered, scanning down the final document. Good. I snapped the briefcase shut and grabbed my coat, searching in the pockets for my keys.

"Mom! I can't find my scarf!" I sighed and hurried to Katee's bedroom door.

"Do you really need it, hon? Do you have your coat and mittens?" I questioned, cracking the door open.

"Yes," she replied dutifully. She stood up straight, letting the long bedspread that she had been searching under drop to the floor. She looked up at me, her eyes sparkling with anticipation and hope.

It was at times like these that I let out a long breath. I didn't know how much longer I'd see those eyes. I was against this whole idea, but on the anniversary of the month her father left, I couldn't deny her anything. She was a dancer. And dance, she would.

"Okay. I'm going out to warm the car up. If you can't find the scarf, you come without it," I directed.

"Got it," she said, sticking her slippers into the plastic grocery bag on top of her bed.

"And wear your coat and hood, young lady! I mean it," I cautioned as I left her room. I gathered my keys, my briefcase, and my own coat and headed outside.

The mad scramble for my old gray four-door, and then the routine struggle to pry the driver door open, chilled me to the bone. Pushing my hair out of my face, I finally succeeded in opening the door enough to get in. Squeezing through, I turned the key. To my relief, the car started. It had died on me before, especially in cold November weather.

I waited for the engine to warm up, thinking about how good Art had been at fixing the gray Honda. I wasn't remembering my ex-husband with particular warmth. I'd vowed to hate him for abandoning Katee. He'd said it wasn't her he had left, it was me, but he'd never wrote, visited, or taken any interest in her since the divorce was finalized. That had been seven months ago. Well, I couldn't really expect any less from a guy I'd married simply because I had a child with him out of pure frustration. Frustration because the love of my teenage life hadn't noticed me. That had been my fault.

Ferb had tried to stop me, I recalled. Good old Ferb; he had tried to talk some sense into Phineas when he heard I was pregnant with Art. He had told Phineas that I loved him, not my boyfriend, and to stop being so thickheaded. From what I heard, Phineas had become furious with his brother. He had been on a short fuse through high school, anyway. I thought he was impatient to finish his last year and get on with life. Then, Ferb came along and told him that he had to pick up my pieces and fall in love with me. Phineas wouldn't have liked that one bit.

They had stopped speaking to each other after that argument. I remembered them shooting angry looks at each other during my wedding. It had only added to the tension of being pregnant during the ceremony. I didn't believe that frostiness had lasted too long, though. Those neighbors of mine had always been best friends. I wouldn't know how they were doing lately, of course. I hadn't seen them since I moved with Art to NYC after the wedding, roughly ten years ago.

"I can't wait, Mom!" Katee gushed. I started. My daughter had climbed into the back seat while I was reminiscing. I glanced at her through the rearview mirror. She was beaming with delight, her wisps of hair pulled up into a bun with a ponytail. She clutched the bag holding her leotard, tights, and slippers and bounced in her seat, waiting for me to back out of the driveway.

Dismissing thoughts of former friends, I gripped the wheel and backed out while Katee chanted, "To Evergreen Theater!"

I hoped it wouldn't start to snow before we reached the theater. Evergreen was just another little-known New York building with a stage, unimpressively tiny and nestled between two skyscrapers. I had come across it via a random web search. However, an impressive adaptation of "The Nutcracker" would be showing there the weekend before Christmas. The cast would be made up of locals. I guessed the people in charge weren't particular about talent; most of the profits were supposed to go to charity. Of course, Katee had noted that the auditions called for a few children. She wanted nothing more for Christmas than to perform "The Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy." That, and her father to come home for Christmas.

What was I going to do, tell my sick, nine-year-old daughter that the children's dance was only three or four minutes long, rather a waste of time to practice for, and her father was a jerk who forgot her name the moment she was diagnosed? No, of course not. As long as the doctors cleared Katee for dancing, I was going to let her. It made her happy, at least. The theater was a fifteen minute drive away. I could take her there after work every day.

I would do whatever it took to make Katee happy. That way, I had less time to think about how lonely I was. Katee's attempt to hum tunes from "The Nutcracker" faded in and out as I stared at the road ahead. Halfway to the theater, I noticed a few snowflakes drifting onto the windshield. Muttering a curse under my breath for Katee's sake, I turned on the windshield wipers.

I wasn't usually this belligerent toward winter weather, or the Christmas season. It wasn't my Mexican-Jewish background; Art had laughed at the notion of Hanukah, so I found that it was easier to give in to him and not observe it than to set up and go through the traditions. Katee barely remembered what Hanukah was anymore. And for seven years or so, watching Katee run downstairs to see what was under the tree, I found it easier to use the word _Christmas_.

But now, the whole season associated with the word just seemed like a time when it was cold, electric bills went up, cars needed more maintenance, and snow built up in the driveway. Meanwhile, the television broadcast endless sales commercials about bratty little rich kids asking Santa for vehicles they couldn't drive, stores felt it was their duty to give out reminders of the season by endlessly guilt-tripping customers into buying expensive gifts, and everyone was supposed to smile about it and say "Merry Christmas."

"Stupid snow," I muttered as I parked in front of the theater and opened Katee's door. "Do you have everything?" I prompted.

"Yeah," she muttered absently, staring at the building in front of her. She shivered momentarily, and I reached down to button her coat.

"You know better than to leave the house like this," I scolded. Her only answer was a cough.

"Katee Leigh Hutchinson, do we need to go home?" I demanded.

"We're here already," she returned, racing for the entrance. She didn't get very far. I caught up with her, reprimanded her for running, and opened a wooden door with a holly sprig above the knob.

Katee faded into silence. Her big hazel eyes darted around, taking in every detail of the building. An usher appeared and, when I told him we were here for auditions, directed us to the right in a low tone.

We entered the auditorium only to have an usherette, blond with black roots and about thirty-five, stop us. She held a clipboard and referred to it as we halted. "Name?" she asked in a clipped tone.

"Katee Hutchinson is the one auditioning. I signed her up online; the name should be Isabella Garcia-Shapiro," I replied. The woman ran a long red nail down the chart.

"Ah, yes. The sugar plum fairy," she said in a disgusted tone. I frowned. There was no reason for her to be rude. "You can change in the rooms provided over there," she said to Katee, pointing vaguely off to the right. "_Please_ be punctual; the children's auditions start in ten minutes."

"Come on, Katee," I said, hurrying her off to the dressing rooms. I waited outside as she slipped into her leotard. She came out in five minutes looking flushed and excited. I walked her to the front seats where a few other children were stationed and sat quietly through a few adult auditions.

To my surprise, there were quite a few talented dancers. Pretty young women with their hair up in tight blond or brunette buns took the stage, swirling effortlessly to the music. Their male partners, all dressed in soldier suits, danced beside them, performing lifts with surprising grace.

"All right, everyone! Thank you so much for auditioning. Now, it's time for the children to come up, alphabetically, please. Shannon Ashton…" An older man with a megaphone climbed up on the stage as the adult dancers scattered. I settled back against the seat. It would be a while before Katee was called. While I waited, I studied the ceiling, wondered why there was glitter up there, thought about what would be doable for dinner tonight, and hoped there wouldn't be more snow.

"…Katee Hutchinson!" I looked up. My daughter bounded up the steps to the stage, flashed a winning smile, and posed carefully. The enchanting music began to play. She raised her arms, beginning a teasing rond de jambe.

The first minute or so went beautifully. The director was grinning from ear to ear, talking animatedly to a couple of people near him. Midway through the dance, though, I became concerned. Her smile never faltered, but I sensed that Katee was losing energy.

Then, it happened. She leapt, too soon, and collapsed to the floor, breathing hard. The music stopped. I heard snickers from the front row and was seized with an urge to injure children that were not my own. Instead, I ran up to the stage.

"Are you okay?" I asked. Katee wasn't; she was crying. Needless to say, the audition didn't go well after that.

"She has a condition," I tried vainly to reason with the director.

"You didn't tell us about that, Miss Shapiro," he replied.

"You didn't ask, online or here. She's been cleared by her doctor. Ballet is in her blood; can't she have another chance?"

"Frankly, we'd feel better if the children participating were not at risk of passing out in the middle of their routine. I'm sorry, ma'am."

And that was it. We were about to leave, with me secretly thinking it was probably for the best anyway, when I glanced down at Katee's downcast face and had an idea. I turned and walked back to the usherette.

"Excuse me, do you know who's in charge of this production?" I asked. She gestured toward the director. "No, I seem to recall that this performance was being sponsored by a company," I told her, remembering reading something about Dreamcloud Enterprises online at the bottom of a webpage.

"We do have someone from the company overseeing, but he's very busy," the usherette attempted to rebuff me.

"Do you know if he's available?" I asked boldly. The usherette rolled heavily made-up eyes.

"Ma'am, he's probably in his office right now," she said.

"Oh? Where is that?"

"Across the street, but don't waste your time. They won't let you see him there, either. He's a busy man, I assure you."

"Thank you very much." I took Katee's hand and marched out of the building, fuming inwardly at the nerve of these people.

"I guess it's over, huh?" Katee inquired. I squared my shoulders.

"Not entirely," I responded. I drove my car across the street to a particularly tall, drab gray building. I located the correct floor for the Dreamcloud Enterprises out-of-state office and rode the elevator up. I walked in, parked Katee in the waiting area, and asked the secretary at the front desk if I could see the person sponsoring "The Nutcracker" play. She looked at me as if I had slid through the doors on a brightly colored surfboard.

"The play opening across the street," I pressed.

"Oh, yes," she murmured. "He's highly busy at the moment; the season and all of that. If you'll leave your name-"

"Excuse me," I interrupted, noting a cracked door to the right of the front desk, "but I really don't have time. I need to see him today." With that, I walked briskly for the door I'd spotted.

"Miss!" The secretary started to protest, but I strode through the door and shut it loudly. Hopefully, Mr. high-and-mighty would jump at my arrival. To my disappointment, the desk was piled high with books. Someone was behind them; I could tell from the chair squeaking. I couldn't see a face, though.

"If this is about the president of the Danlow Company, Miss Barnet, I told you I would get back to them," an annoyed, stressed voice droned from behind the desk.

"Excuse me," I said boldly, "but I am not Miss Barnet, or any of your other employees. I came to talk to you about a discrimination toward my daughter in regards to your Christmas performance of 'The Nutcracker'-"

"Frankly, miss, I don't care how you slipped past my secretary, or about the Christmas play in general. I was sent down here partly to oversee the play, which is interpreted as sitting through the agonizing final production on the weekend before Christmas. Other than that, I am very busy and intend to have nothing else to do with the production," the clipped, frustrated voice stated, as if that were the end of it.

"I don't care what you think about the play! My daughter had her heart set on this, and they simply threw her out-"

"Do you see these, miss?" A pair of hands reached out from around the pile of books and lifted one of the volumes.

"Yes."

"Old-fashioned bookkeeping dating back from the nineteenth century. My employer has sent me to organize and compile all this data onto a computer, which should take me until _next_ Christmas. In short, I really haven't the time," the British voice explained painstakingly.

It was a very British voice. Also, call me crazy, but I recognized those hands. They were rough, too rough for a businessman, and I could see them driving in nails or working with a blowtorch far too easily. Besides, I would never forget that voice, even though I'd probably heard it more in the past five minutes than during all those years back home.

Pushing a layer of books aside, I bent over the desk. The first thing I saw was a shock of bushy green hair. I gasped, and he looked up.

"Ferb?" I questioned in disbelief.

"Isabella?"

* * *

_**I'm crazy to start a PnF Christmas fic right now, but I loved this idea, and it was snowed today for the first time this year. So, cue the Ferbella Christmassy stuff! Anyway, I wrote the first chapter all in one day; always a good sign.**_

_**I'll be surprised if I finish this before Christmas. It'll probably turn into a leftover late January fic…oh, well.**_

_**:3,**_

_**Laptop**_


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

* * *

"It's really you," I said as Ferb stood, awkwardly, and regarded me. He only nodded, suddenly becoming as silent as I remembered him. "What are you doing up here?" I asked. "I thought for sure you and Phineas would have a company of your own and be climbing ladders to the stars by now."

He stiffened at the mention of Phineas and gave a sideways shake of his head. There was a moment's silence as I realized that the brothers' rift may have been more serious than I imagined. Suddenly, though, Ferb began speaking again, using those clipped, businesslike tones.

"No, I'm not affiliated with Carpe Diem Research Facilities."

"That's Phineas' company?" I inquired. I was surprised not to have heard of it.

"Yes. Inventions stream out of there by the hour, I'm told, but they keep a low profile."

"I see," I replied. I studied Ferb, watching the way he moved when he talked. He seemed ill at ease; I didn't know if that was from running into me after all this time, or if there was something else.

"You came in here about your daughter?" he inquired abruptly, walking past me to peek outside his office.

"Yes." I felt a little embarrassed now. "It's just that she was trying to audition for the play going on across the street."

"It was 'The Nutcracker,' didn't you say?" he asked unexpectedly.

"Um, yeah."

"Oh. Then it's a ballet. I thought it was," he said, half to himself.

"Pardon?"

"It's a ballet," he repeated. I stared at him. "It's different from a regular play."

"Yeah, okay, it has dancing in it," I conceded. He motioned for me to go on apologetically. I smiled to myself. Ferb always did get caught up in the little details.

"Anyway, ballet isn't easy for Katee, well, not now. She has a certain condition…" I trailed off. Katee's illness was always hard to explain.

Ferb looked back toward me. "What?" he said softly.

"The first sign was two days after she was born. I was still in the hospital. Basically, there were complications involved with the birth. Then, they noticed Katee wasn't responding correctly. She stabilized a few days later, so everyone thought it was nothing." I took a breath. "Then, eight years later, she quit breathing in the middle of ballet class." I sighed. "She was diagnosed with a form of epilepsy effecting children. Apparently, it's a new and more serious variation. She's on medication, but sometimes, that's not enough. She's had to quit ballet because we couldn't afford it and the medicine."

Ferb pointed out the door to Katee, who was curled in a chair with her chin on her hand, and glanced at me questioningly. "Yes, that's her," I confirmed. "Look, Ferb, I know that a little thing like a minute long dance seems hardly worth it, but-"

"Two minutes and ten seconds."

"What?" I began, and then realized that the voice had come from outside.

"The dance is two minutes and ten seconds long," Katee called. I sighed and started to shut the door, but Ferb put his hand on the knob.

"Wait. Come here, please," he called to Katee. She bounded over.

"Are you Mom's old friend with the dreamy accent?" she demanded. I winced, but Ferb didn't miss a beat.

"I'll do until some such person comes along," he said seriously. He bent down toward her. "So, you dance ballet, young lady?" She nodded.

"She did audition, but there was a problem in the middle of it," I recounted. "The director wouldn't let her have another try. I think she just got too excited. All I want is a chance for her to prove herself." Ferb nodded and took Katee by one hand and me by the other.

"I'll have a talk with the director," he said.

"Right now?" I asked. He nodded again. "Thank you so much," I breathed.

"Not at all. You saved me from data entry," Ferb replied. "My Christmas spirit was becoming quite lost under all of it." His tone was still a bit dry, despite the joke. I glanced at his profile and saw lines of stress on his forehead. I wanted to ask about a lot of things, such as Phineas and why he was buried under a desk for a company he could easily run himself, but I knew this wasn't the time.

We caught the director of the ballet, just as he was leaving, and it didn't take long for Ferb to persuade him to let Katee have another chance. He even stayed to watch Katee's audition. He just sat there silently beside me, eyes half-closed, enjoying a dimly lit place with no paperwork. I didn't try to talk to him. I knew that he liked to remain silent; he probably considered talking to be part of his job. That could be a reason he sounded so short and impatient when he did speak.

By the end of that second audition, Katee was guaranteed a part in the play. Both she and I were beaming on the way out the door. Ferb followed us, and I found myself sharing my delight with him.

"This part is perfect for her. She gets to participate in the ballet, but it's only for one scene, so she won't get tired. There's no danger, and I know she couldn't stand just being in the audience this Christmas." I searched for the other sleeve of my coat for a minute. Ferb lifted it onto my shoulder, and I smiled up at him. "Thanks, Ferb, for everything." He only smiled back and waved in return. Outside the office and business, I theorized, he barely spoke at all.

I was about to leave when he put his hand on my arm. "Question," he said.

"Mmhm?"

"How is your daughter's name pronounced? I saw it on the list of auditions."

"Like Katie. It's just a different spelling. I didn't want it confused with my friend Katie from the Fireside Girls," I told him, checking over my shoulder to make sure Katee was still in the seating area. "Besides, Art was into weird spellings."

"How is he?" Ferb asked politely.

"Hopefully swinging from the highest branches of the Rockefeller Christmas tree." Ferb appeared startled, so I quickly softened my tone. "He left soon after we found out that raising Katee would be different. I haven't heard from him since."

"I'm sorry," Ferb murmured.

"It's okay. I'm better off without him. It's Katee I'm worried about," I brushed it off. He nodded, his blue eyes softening into mine. Suddenly, he tripped over the corner of a decorative tree near the entrance.

"Are you okay?" I steadied him. "You need glasses," I joked, reminded of a standard teasing phrase throughout high school.

He smiled sheepishly. "Maybe. All this computer work is straining my eyes."

"Why don't you get glasses?" He gave me a look. I grinned. "Contacts, then?"

"I couldn't stand contacts," he replied.

"Well, maybe while you're here in New York, you should look into eyewear," I suggested. He shrugged. "How long are you going to be here, anyway?" I asked.

"However long my supervisor wants me here. There's a lot of paperwork to be done before we can expand to New York. Plus, they want me to draw up a blueprint for an office building down here," he said wearily.

"Wow. Sounds like a lot of work," I offered my sympathy.

"Yes." He turned to face me. "Maybe I should look you up while I'm here."

"That would be fun. Do you want to exchange phone numbers?" I inquired.

He dug into his pocket and handed me a card, scribbling a number on the back. "That's my personal cell phone number," he said. I started to search for a pen and paper, but he stopped me. "I don't want yours."

"What?"

His eyes sparkled mischievously at me. "I'll get your name, phone number, and email from the theater's website."

"Are you kidding?" I couldn't help laughing. "That's not allowed, is it?"

"Nonsense. I'm the sponsor. I have access to all the addresses. I just like taking the scenic route sometimes for fun," he answered.

"Ten bucks says you can't do it," I challenged.

"You're on," he shot back gamely.

A little later, I called Katee, and we left the theater. When I got outside, to my surprise, there was only a bit of light snow covering the car. We drove home without incident. Once we arrived, I stood in the kitchen trying to decide what to have for dinner while Katee changed her clothes. She came back downstairs still brushing her dark hair out.

"You don't have to plan something amazing, Mom; it's just us," she reminded me.

"If this is the 'overture to the pleas for peanut butter and jelly,' you can forget it," I returned.

"Aw, come on! It's too late for anything else."

She had a point; it was much later than I'd intended, and I had to work tomorrow. Besides, I didn't really feel like cooking anything. I reached into a cabinet and pulled out a jar of peanut butter.

"Yes," Katee exulted, racing to retrieve her favorite kind of jelly from the refrigerator. "So, practice for the ballet begins at six, three evenings a week," she reminded me.

"I know," I assured her. She twisted the lid of the jelly jar for a little while.

"Mom, did you ever dance ballet?" she questioned then. I remembered a 'ballet patch' for the Fireside Girls a long time ago. I had wanted to include Phineas as my leading man, but somehow or other, I'd ended up with Ferb. Phineas had said something like, "Ferb is a better dancer." It was true. Ferb only practiced modern dance as far as I knew, but he proved to be very good at ballet, too, by the time I tried for the patch. He knew every step.

That had been a fun routine.

"Mom!" I snapped back to reality.

"What?"

Are you okay?" I realized that I had been spreading peanut butter over the same piece of bread long enough to gouge holes in it. "Oh, yeah," I muttered. Katee only picked up the sandwich, adding jelly herself.

"So, is Ferb the guy you used to be friends with?" Katee decided to ask another question.

"Supposedly," I murmured, marveling mentally over the difference in him since I'd seen him.

"Have you thought about him before now?" I looked down at Katee, wondering what prompted that question.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because you seemed like you were really glad to see him. You looked happy, like the way you looked around…" Katee stopped, and I realized she had been about to say, _the way you looked around Daddy._

"You miss your father, don't you?" I asked her. She nodded slowly, as if she expected me to scold her about it. "It's perfectly natural, Katee."

"Do you think Dad's okay?" she queried. I chuckled shortly. It had never occurred to me to worry about Art's well-being.

"Oh, he's probably fine," I said aloud.

"I hope so. Do you think that if I wished he'd have a good Christmas, it would come true?"

"That's really what you want to spend Christmas wishes on?" I responded bitterly before I could stop myself. "I mean, it couldn't hurt." Katee lowered her eyes. My anger hadn't escaped her.

"What do you really want for Christmas?" I asked to divert her attention. Whatever it was, with the car failing and the bills piling up, I didn't know if we could afford it. In fact, I had tried not to bring up toys and treats this year. Now I felt like a bad mother, bringing in Christmas to distract my child from my own resentment.

Her wish was simple. "All I want for Christmas is to be a dancer again. And, since Ferb talked to those people, it looks like it's going to come true."

I smiled widely into the second sandwich I was making for myself. Maybe, this Christmas wouldn't be such a bad one after all.

* * *

_**So, there's installment number two of the fic**_**_-that-reads-like-a-cheesy-Christmas-special! I have updated in one day, though, proving to myself that it is doable. I shall try to update with short chapters as quickly as possible._**

**_:3,_**

**_Laptop_**


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

* * *

I woke the next morning, turned my head toward the window next to my bed, and caught a glimpse of the frosted windowpane behind the shade. An ominous feeling grew within me. I pulled the shade aside, and blinding white met my eyes. "Oh, great," I moaned, sitting up. Everything was buried in at least five inches of snow. We'd have to clear the driveway in record time if I wanted to arrive at work at all or take Katee to school. I glanced out the window again and shook my head. Who was I kidding? There was no way I could get the car out. Katee would have to take the school bus. At least she wouldn't have to pay a fare.

I slid out of bed seconds before my alarm went off and headed for the shower. I paused by my bedroom door, thinking I heard the television. I turned the knob and heard a reporter's voice a little more clearly. Walking into the living room, I found Katee ignoring the talking. The little blue ribbon on the bottom of the screen, naming schools that were closed, was all she cared about.

"There's Marble Place Elementary." Katee grinned. "We have a snow day!"

I sat beside her on the couch. "That's good, for you, anyway. The car's snowed in, but now you won't have to ride the school bus. I still have to go to work, though and there's no one to stay with you."

Katee rolled her eyes. "It's a snow day. Why can't you stay home from work?" she asked.

"Because a job isn't like elementary school," I replied. _Unfortunately._ "I can take the bus if I have to. Although, I might miss work anyway; I'm not leaving you home by yourself. Maybe they wouldn't mind if I brought you today."

"I thought they had a no kids rule," Katee reminded me.

"Well, kids do look a bit out of place at the front desk of a law firm," I reasoned. "I hate to skip work after all that time off they already allowed me while you were in the hospital a few months ago."

"Well, why don't we call someone? Mrs. McKenzie would be glad to watch me," Katee suggested, referring to the elderly woman next door.

"I know she would, but I'm not sure she would react fast enough if you had an attack," I said.

"I like Mrs. McKenzie," Katee declared.

"I do too, but I'm just not comfortable leaving you alone with her all day. And there's no other neighbor I'd trust with you." I reached for the phone. "I might as well call the office and see if they're willing to let you visit for a day."

"Hey." Katee held up a sticky note attached to my phone. "Isn't this Ferb-guy's number? We could call him."

I snatched the note from her. I couldn't even remember sticking that to my cell phone last night. "No, we can't. You don't randomly ask favors of an old friend you just ran into. It's been years since I've seen him. Besides, he works too, for Dreamcloud Industries, remember? He's very busy." Katee only shrugged.

With a sigh, I dialed my work number. The law firm I worked for as a receptionist and unofficial secretary was strikingly busy, despite the attitude of one of its lawyers. The nameplate on the door read, "Law Offices of Sharp and Beckett." However, Claire Beckett really ran the place. She was cold, calculating, and capable of winning almost any argument. I didn't know much about her except that she stayed her distance and wasn't fond of children.

"Law Offices of Sharp and Beckett," a female voice droned after the phone rang a few times. I sucked in my breath. Of course, Jeffery Sharp was out and Claire was there early.

"Hello. This is Isabella," I began nervously. I had the feeling she'd never let Katee come to work.

"Are you going to be able to make it in today?" Claire asked.

"Actually, that's what I was calling about. You see, my daughter's school closed because of the weather. Is there any way that she could come in with me, just this once? She won't make any trouble; I promise you, she's very well-behaved-"

"I understand the emergency, Isabella. However, this is mid-week. We have some very important clients coming in today, as I'm sure you know, and having a child running around does not look professional. Our office is still small; therefore, we are all anxious to make a good impression."

My temper flared. "All right, then. I may not be able to come to work," I returned, trying to keep my tone civil.

"Of course. You know, this sort of thing has happened quite a lot lately," Claire went on in a frosty tone.

"I've been trying to understand my daughter's illness," I protested. "It's very rare, and-"

"Yes. And I've been trying to understand why our receptionist can't show up on time, or at all."

"But-"

"Miss Garcia-Shapiro, if you do not arrive at work on time today, I shall issue your final paycheck."

"Are you saying that because I'm taking care of my daughter, you're going to fire me?" I demanded.

"I'm saying that my office needs all staff at work on time consistently. Goodbye, Isabella." With that, Claire hung up.

I returned the phone to its place none too gently and sank down onto the couch. Given Claire's attitude, it would be so easy to quit my job. I wanted to quit.

I knew I couldn't, though. It was winter, so the electric bills were up. There was rent to pay, Katee needed warmer clothes, the hospital was pressing ever so gently for their money, and of course, we had to eat. There was no other job I'd be able to find that would pay decently, especially during this time of year.

I had no idea what to do. Katee climbed up beside me, looking worried. "So, I guess I can't come?" she asked.

"No. I can't just leave you here, so I guess we'll have a fun day together," I replied.

"They won't be mad, will they?" Katee probed.

"Well, if they are…" I stopped, knowing there was nothing comforting I could say. I didn't want to worry Katee, though. "It'll be fine."

Katee sent me one of those disbelieving glances. I got up, avoiding her gaze. I imagined writing a letter to Mr. Sharp, explaining the circumstances. Hopefully, he would understand.

I was mentally planning out the letter when my cell phone rang. At first, I thought it might be Claire calling back to gripe more, but I didn't recognize the number. I pressed the button to receive the call automatically, however. It must have been old habit.

"Hello?" I said uncertainly.

"Uh, is this Mr. Bradshaw's office?" a confused voice asked.

"No, this is-my house. I think you have the wrong number," I replied.

"Oh, I'm sorry." I thought the caller had hung up until I heard his voice again. "Isabella, is that you? This is Ferb Fletcher."

"Oh, I thought I recognized you. You called my cell phone by accident?" I questioned.

"I retrieved your number from the database late last evening. I must have mistaken it for the other number I wrote down. I'm sorry; you're probably getting ready for work," he said.

"No, it's fine. I'm actually staying home today." Ferb must have detected anxiety, for he quickly asked if anything was wrong. I ended up telling him all about why I wasn't going to work.

"I could come over," was his response.

"What? Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"With this job, I can work anywhere. If you don't mind, I'd be happy to look after your daughter," he suggested. "I could bring a few books along with my computer and just stay at your house all day. It's probably warmer there."

"Oh, well…" I stopped to think over the offer. Normally, I would never have considered such a thing. However, Ferb had always been responsible. Katee, very independent, was normally happy to be around new people. She'd behaved wonderfully for the nurses at the hospital while I was away at work during the day.

I realized that Ferb was still waiting for my answer. "Do you know anything about epilepsy?" I asked him.

"I've studied it," he replied briefly. That was enough. I rolled my eyes at myself for asking. Of course Ferb had studied epilepsy, along with every other disease, medicine, famous structure, and work of art under the sun.

Really, I had no choice. I couldn't afford to lose this job. I'd never imagined needing to leave my child with a near stranger in order to keep my house until spring.

"If you could come, that would be great," I declared. "I could call home on every break. I guess it would be safe." I thought I heard a dry chuckle on the other end of the line.

"It's not that you don't trust me," he murmured, sounding slightly amused.

"I didn't mean it like that. To be fair, though, I don't exactly know you." The words sounded overly defensive, even to myself.

"It's all right, Isabella. I'd be just as protective if she were my daughter," Ferb calmed me.

"I'm sorry. It's the stress talking," I murmured, reining in my snappiness. "You're the one doing the favor. I'd be grateful if you'd come."

"I'll be there right away. May I have your street address?" he asked.

"Couldn't get that from the website?" I quipped.

"Email addresses only. I did, however, acquire that."

"I guess I owe you ten dollars."

"Well, suppose I take you out to dinner sometime?" he returned. I wrinkled my nose.

"That doesn't sound like me paying you back."

"I thought we were joking about the bet, Isabella," he said gently. The lightness in my head that I experienced just then did _not_ have anything to do with the way he lowered his voice or said my name. It was just a shock to experience kindness. I hadn't had a dose of human decency in quite a while, apparently.

"Oh. Okay," I said out loud.

"We can discuss this later if you like," Ferb told me, his tone back to a combination of brusque and businesslike in seconds. "I suppose you need to hurry on to your work."

"Yes." I gave him my address while gathering my things. "The third house on the block with the maroon siding that's a little damaged is the one you're looking for. Katee will let you in," I directed.

"You're not going to be there?" Ferb sounded more than a little concerned.

"Probably not. I have to catch a bus in twenty minutes, or I won't make it at all. If you need any more directions, you can call my cell phone. I'll probably just miss you by a couple of minutes, but I can't afford to be late again," I explained. "I guess I sound like a terrible mother."

"Not at all. Just hold on; I can get there in twenty minutes."

"Really?" I murmured. "Through New York traffic?" Another light chuckle was all the answer I received. "Don't tell me. You've designed a flying car?" I teased.

"Never you mind." Ferb almost sounded like he was trying to cut me off. He hadn't meant to be rude, I knew, but I must have made him uncomfortable somehow. I decided to stop bothering him.

"Well anyway, thank you so much, Ferb. Goodbye."

"'Bye," he grunted. I could hear the reticence through the phone.

"What did he say?" Katee asked as I ended the call.

I smiled at her. "Ferb Fletcher is coming over to stay with you. Will that be all right?"

"Sure." She rested her head against the arm of the couch. I stared down at her. She was so trusting. Someday, that trust would bring her nothing but trouble. She'd end up desperately working a dead-end job, leaving her kids in the care of mysterious old friends. Well, at least her life would be interesting.

I rushed around the house for a few more minutes, reminded Katee exactly when I would call her, and left a list of emergency numbers on the kitchen counter. Apparently, that took all of twenty minutes. I thought I was more organized, but I had barely gathered everything together when I heard a knock on the front door.

I let Ferb in. He was bobbing up and down from the cold, and the tip of his nose was red. He carried two huge volumes with a laptop computer balanced on top of them.

"Perfect timing," I greeted him. He smiled slightly, his eyes traveling to the bare walls of my dimly lit house. I felt warmth creeping into my cheeks, but I held my head high anyway. At least the living room was reasonably clean.

"Hi." Katee skipped over to us, regarding Ferb with an easygoing smile.

"Hello," he responded. Ferb's voice sounded proper and British, but the minute he bent down toward Katee, I saw a glimpse of the boy who stood with a quiet enthusiasm in his brother's shadow. "So, it looks like I'm to be your companion today," he continued.

"We'll have fun, won't we?" Katee asked.

Ferb set the books and his computer on the couch. "Actually, I still have to work while I'm here."

"Are you sure?" Katee began.

"Katee, I don't want you bothering Ferb. He's mainly here in case you start feeling sick, or something like that," I interjected.

"No, no, it's fine. I'll have to take a break from this sooner or later," Ferb assured me.

"All right. I should warn you, she'll spend the whole day talking about dancing if you let her," I said. "Anyway, I have got to go now, before I miss the bus."

"Have a good day, Mom." Katee hugged me.

"You too. Be good," I called as I hurried for the door. The last thing I heard before I pulled it shut behind me was Ferb.

"So, Katee, what are we going to do today?" The way he worded that question brought a few memories back, so my mind was full during the ride to work.

I came in barely on time, but no one noticed. The door to Claire's office was shut, but I could hear her excitedly talking on the phone. I slipped into my place at the front desk just before she strutted out of her office. Obviously, she was in a good mood.

"Oh, you're here, are you?" she remarked offhandedly when she saw me. "Well, good." She picked up a red binder and dropped it on my desk. "I need you to read this over. Just make sure there are no mistakes in it."

I opened the binder. There, on the first page, was a name I recognized. _Phineas Flynn vs. Henry O'Connell_. I stared at the two names.

"Henry O'Connell? Who is he?" I inquired. Claire snorted.

"Only the CEO of one of the biggest corporations in America," she returned. "This is a very big case. Well, technically, it's not a case yet. It's a settlement-out-of-court that has taken a few years to die down. O'Connell's corporation threatened to file a lawsuit against Carpe Diem Research Facilities quite a few years ago. Carpe Diem got an lawyer, and the case has been batted around ever since then."

"Why do we care about it if it's not an actual case?" I wanted to know.

"As a courtesy, the attorney who's advising O'Connell's corporation is allowing us, under joint agreement, to take a look at the matter. Tension is rising between Carpe Diem Research and Dreamcloud Industries again, and if it becomes a case, this attorney doesn't want to bring it to court. If we take the case off her hands, and win, this firm will see a lot of growth next year," Claire explained.

"Wait." I paged through the binder. "Did you say O'Connell's corporation is Dreamcloud Industries?"

"Yes."

"That can't be," I breathed. "That's where Ferb works."

Claire didn't hear me. "So, anyway, the attorney for Dreamcloud Industries is coming here to discuss the case with me today. It's been strung out over a few years, so, of course, there are many twists and turns to the matter. She's young and inexperienced; she doesn't know what an opportunity she's passing up."

"Oh," I said faintly, just because Claire clearly expected me to be interested.

"She should drop in sometime this afternoon. I think her name is Vanessa. The last name is outlandish; just ask her for it when she comes in. I want to know the moment she arrives." With these instructions, Claire headed back toward her office.

I shut the binder slowly, wondering if business had been enough to drive Phineas and Ferb apart. I didn't like it. I didn't like the way Ferb had changed. Had Phineas become the same way?

I glanced around, opened the binder, and copied a few phone numbers down. Maybe it was all none of my business, but maybe I could do some good. It wouldn't hurt to find out a little more information.

Slipping the scrap of notebook paper into my pocket, I picked up a pencil and began to proofread. The big red binder might provide a few answers of its own.

* * *

_**I was supposed to finish, or nearly finish, this story during winter break. I didn't expect everyone in our family to get sick during that week. And then, well, January ensued. I didn't even check my email for a month. Finally, my sis told me to finish this story, and even made a cover for me. And, because I was shocked that she actually drew something Ferbella, I started up again.**_

_**So, anyway, I'm back, and I have a LOT of reading/writing to catch up on. I'll get to it all; I missed this place.**_

_**:3,**_

_**Laptop**_


End file.
